Yesterday I got back to my apartment to discover that the doorknob would not open the door. The knob would spin loosely, with no indication that it could engage the little pop-out “button” thing that normally slides inward when the knob is turned. This was not an altogether surprising development; my knob had been operating “questionably” for months. So I went to the office to request that maintenance find some way to get me into my apartment. I was told that someone would meet me there to fix the problem.
After waiting near my car for perhaps 15 minutes, I decided to be clever. In a fit of MacGyver-esque magic, I used an old card from my wallet to gain access to the apartment (after unlocking the deadbolt, of course). I then waited for hours and no one ever showed up.
Consider this: if I had not found some way into the apartment, I would have been sleeping in my car last night. This alone would be reason enough for the average person to decide that another housing complex would be more deserving of his money. I, however, simply placed tape over the pop-out “button” thing to keep it in and then used the deadbolt to secure the door.
Now, a day after my work request, I find that it still has not been fixed. Instead I’m greeted by the cacophonous pounding of those oft-sought-after maintenance workers in the apartment above, presumably installing new carpet in the hopes that some other sucker will move in to keep revenue flowing to this shoddy community.
And now a light needs replacing in my kitchen…it appears that I’ll be fixing my Pop-Tarts in ominous darkness until my lease runs out.